


Dissolved

by bloodvein



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Bathroom Sex, F/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Season 1, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28686918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodvein/pseuds/bloodvein
Summary: It's a fight he is more than willing to lose.
Relationships: Olivia Benson/Elliot Stabler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	Dissolved

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song Dissolved Girl by Massive Attack.

It's a gradual shift; the gears turning one tooth at a time.

The borders they create during the day at work crack and crumble under insurmountable pressure. She doesn't say anything when he unbuttons his shirt, letting it lay open and exposing his chest and stomach. He doesn't call her out when her eyes make their way over his now bare torso.

The slight rise in her breathing makes his pants tight.

Elliot feels the tickle of anticipation. It rolls down his back, settling low in his stomach. He's had her before. He thinks about their first time, when he had fucked her in the cribs, his hand covering her mouth to keep her cries from alerting anyone to what they were doing. It was broad daylight, brazen as fuck - but they had just finished a block of shifts and they were both too tired to go home, too turned on to just leave the attraction alone anymore.

He remembers the scar on his shoulder from her teeth, how she had clenched around him so fiercely he nearly ripped the iron cot frame apart at the sensation.

They both know why he came here. Sometimes he comes just to talk to her, spend time with her. But tonight he doesn't plan on talking. After a long day he should go home to his kids, his first thought should be of them and being a father. Yet he's on Olivia's couch, the thought of his freshly signed separation so far in the back of his mind it nearly ceases to exist.

The soft glow of her television fills her living room.

All the lights are turned off in her apartment, but the television remains on. He tries to focus on the dialogue, the dramatics of it all. Perhaps it's The Sopranos he's watching - he isn't sure. There are men on the tv, though his vision is hazy and out of focus. His eyes only take in blurs and slight movements.

He can feel her gaze on him. She had told him to keep watching tv, to try and relax. He does try repeatedly. Every time his eyes find hers again, she shakes her head at him. Olivia's hands are on his thighs and every so often, her nails scrape along his skin. It's just deep enough he groans at the sensation.

She knows how to unwind him. Sometimes he is coiled so tightly from work, from his children, that she feels it and slowly brings him down to earth.

It's a fight he is more than willing to lose.

Olivia's eyes catch his. There is a hint of a smile on her lips. She's between his thighs, her feet tucked beneath her legs. Her back is arched forward to reach him on the couch. His cock is hard in her mouth and her hand holds him steady as she releases his head and breathes out.

"Keep watching," she tells him.

He tries to resist her, to disobey her commands. She knows he wants to watch her - nothing on television could hold his attention as she does. His hand is in her hair, pushing her head down in time with his slight thrusts. Her couch creaks when his lower half rises to meet her mouth but the obnoxious sound doesn't deter her movements. She is a vixen when she wants something. Her body will move in languid, seductive ways that will inevitably break down his barriers.

"Olivia," his voice is barely above a whisper. Her tongue swirls around his tip and then she takes him in her mouth, this time she goes down until he is pulsing in her throat. The vibrations of her humming around him rip a low groan from him. It's a slow and gentle gag that brings her back up. He can't concentrate on the tv. His free hand is pulling at the armrest and she will kill him if he rips her furniture.

"Eyes on the tv," she warns again.

He manages to ignore her this time.

"You look so fucking good like this," he grinds out.

Her mouth comes off of him and he nearly blacks out from need.

* * *

He's in the bathroom for no more than thirty seconds before she breaks.

Her fist pounds on the door. She wants him to know she's there, to let her in, and maybe scare him a bit. They go back and forth like this - pushing and pulling for power. Sometimes she lets him win. Other times he loses. His ego doesn't bruise and that surprises her. He needs her to take the power from him and relieve the pressures he feels.

Sometimes she thinks he gives so much of himself to everyone around him he has nothing left for himself.

She doesn't hold her arms out against the door frame. It's too open, too aggressive for what he needs tonight. She purposely provoked him earlier. He needs to burn off the anger that's been simmering in him for days now. Her mouth had moved torturously slow on him, teasing him, and she knew he wanted to take control and fuck her mouth.

But she wouldn't let him do it how he wanted to. On purpose.

When he opens the door, he grabs her arm with a forceful grip and drags her into the bathroom. The frame shudders after he slams it closed, and it mixes with the sound of him lifting her onto the counter. He's tearing at her clothing, her baseball tee is flung across the small room, her bra lands somewhere near it.

Elliot is between her legs, yanking her jeans over her hips. He lost his own jeans in the time he was alone - and she can tell from the water droplets on his face and chest that he had tried to cool himself off. Her relentless teasing had driven him into the bathroom to take matters into his own hands, she sees it in his eyes and the wetness that's gathered on the front of his grey boxers.

His cock is still straining against the fabric as he roughly palms her breasts, pulling her nipple into the hot recesses of his mouth. Her back arches into him, his teeth graze over the sensitive nub and soothe with his tongue.

"I need you," she confesses. "So bad."

She listens to the growl that comes from his busy mouth. Her eyes are closed, chin tipped up towards the ceiling. The mirror is cool against her shoulders and the back of her head. It's a relief but it's not enough. She uses the heel of her foot to press urgently into his glutes, she's aching for him now.

His shoulders disappear from her lower peripherals, and he pulls her legs right to the edge of the counter. Olivia clutches onto the marble, her upper body surging forward when his tongue and teeth connect with her inner thigh. "You're a tease," she gasps out, unclenching one of her hands to urge him closer to where she wants him.

"You're impatient," Elliot growls.

Her nails dig in just a little bit at the back of his head. She hears the gentle thud of his knees meeting the floor for her, and something about her partner getting on his knees for her - just as she had with him - has her blood surging in her veins.

She dissolves beneath his touch.

No one besides them even knows what happens behind closed doors. They speculate, spread rumors, and whisper almost too loud in bewilderment. Olivia smiles, knowing they would never guess that Detective Stabler; family man, good Catholic - loves to put his head between her thighs.

She knows it in the way he groans after the first long swipe of his tongue along her slit. "God, you taste so good," his voice is cocky, he doesn't even try to cover how much it turns him on to watch her flush at his words. He doesn't talk like this with anyone else. He's told her before, _you just bring it out of me, I guess._

Olivia understands. There are parts of herself she lets him see in and out of the bedroom that she doesn't allow anyone else to. They have fucked long and hard enough at times she's needed to change the sheets on her bed immediately. They've both called in sick to work minutes apart, knowing they wouldn't be able to pull themselves apart long enough for a shift. Sometimes she hears sounds come out of her own mouth that she doesn't recognize.

His startling blue eyes keep a close watch on her. He's dipping his tongue into her now, tasting, exploring her. Every time his lips close over her flesh her legs involuntarily twitch. She feels him shift for a moment beneath her, and she imagines he's ditching his boxers so he can grip his cock. If she closes her eyes she can see him squeezing his length in his hand, pulsing erotically with need.

His tongue sweeps over her clit, he pulls it into his mouth and sucks. He laughs at her when she puts her hands out at her sides on the counter to support herself, only to accidentally push her perfume over the edge. It crashes on the floor somewhere she can't see but she hears it, and after a few moments she smells it. "You owe me a new bottle," she whines, though she's not entirely sure he heard her with the way she is gasping and struggling to speak.

It's when her moans begin to take on a high pitch that he relents, pulling his mouth away from her core. Part of her wants to close her thighs around his head and make him stay between her legs, though she knows what's coming next so she lets him stand. Olivia sinks her teeth into her lower lip and wiggles her hips towards his in anticipation, looking up at him through heavy eyelashes.

Elliot's thick hand covers her throat, his cock rubbing intimately over her glistening core. "You're gonna look at me when I fuck you."

And then he's thrusting hard into her. He swallows the gasp that comes from her open mouth, his thumb brushing over her pulse point. There is no mercy in his gaze and his hips do not wait for her body to adjust before pulling almost all the way out and slamming in again. She barely notices how his other hand is pushing and holding her thigh, angling her body to his will.

Elliot is so thick inside of her. He's perfect, and it's just a reflection of the rest of his body. Sculpted, big, stunningly hard. It reminds her of how she had resorted to biting into his shoulder to stop herself from screaming the first time he slid into her. Normally she wasn't particularly vocal - her body had never been pushed hard enough for her to warrant that level of sound.

Part of herself always knew it would be like this from the moment they met. She had shaken his hand, introduced herself politely, and in the back of her mind, she could just see flashes of his body in a thrash with hers. Fighting for air, fucking, tangled limbs, and bruised mouths.

_She always knew._

Olivia's hand presses back into the mirror, attempting to create more leverage for their bodies to move. Every moment like this creates a high for her, for them. They are frenetic; clawing and grasping and pulling. His mouth covers hers and she is whimpering at the strength of everything Elliot. His movements are fluid yet rough, his hands and mouth are unforgiving.

When his tongue recedes from her mouth, he dips his head towards the crook of her neck. "Touch yourself," he orders, his lips finding a sensitive spot beneath her ear. She's too far gone to put up a fight, and she takes the hand that was on the mirror and works it between their slick bodies.

At first touch, she clenches around him once. He grunts as if she's hurt him and she watches his gaze carefully. Elliot may pride himself as a good Catholic but he likes to watch her pleasure herself, he craves seeing her bringing herself over the edge. He's told her it's the most erotic thing he's ever seen, and maybe that's true.

For her, it's the expression on his face. When he knows what his body is doing to her, and a slow, cocky smile rises on his lips. He's got her right where he wants her - she's played right into his hand. She doesn't mind.

Elliot's hand squeezes tighter at the sides of her neck, it makes the blood rush to her head. She trusts him to do this with her. He likes the power; she itches for the loss of it.

Just when she's about to tap his arm to let go, he releases her throat and grabs the hand between her legs. He angles his hips to fill the last space within her body as he brings her fingers to his lips, sucking at the slick arousal that covers them. It's the groan that comes from deep in his belly that sends her over the edge; scratching and clinging to his body.

She's surrounded by his heat. Her chest presses into his, her hard nipples scraping over his muscles and hot, damp skin. The counter doesn't allow her to move the way she wants to when she feels him start to let go, but he seemingly knows this and grips her hip, pumping into her a few more times before stilling.

Olivia lets her forehead fall to his shoulder as she pants softly, trying to catch her breath. She can hear his labored breathing, she feels the spiked pulse beneath his skin.

Even after she finds calmness again, her body feels light. Elliot leads her the few steps to the shower silently, and under the spray, his mouth finds her temple and he is finally uncoiled from the day.

Her fingertips graze over the scar on his shoulder and she thinks about how far they've come, yet how still they remain.


End file.
